


for (the sake of) old times

by grapefruity



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Hollywood! AU, but ya didn't hear it from me!, lowkey a When Harry Met Sally AU to an extent as well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 20:43:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13256250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grapefruity/pseuds/grapefruity
Summary: “Wh— You—! Who—“ Karkat stumbles.“Karkat?” Terezi spits, annoyingly more coherent.“Oh, you two know each other!” The director says, coming around, clapping both of them ‘round the shoulder, giving a glance down at Karkat’s still sopping wet and burning hot pant leg. “That’ll make the chemistry even more believable, huh?”(loosely based on the prompt “we’re two celebrities cohosting New Year’s Rockin’ Eve and we hate each other but we’re contractually obligated to kiss”)





	for (the sake of) old times

**Author's Note:**

> be warned, I wrote this at 1 in the morning in an hour jacked on two cups of coffee and barely edited it so, it might be a trainwreck
> 
> happy (belated) new years! yes, i used auld lang syne as the title inspo, sue me for a lack of creativity

Karkat reasons with himself, that he did not claw his way to the very top of the thespian ranks just to be _pimped out_ because someone out there decided, arbitrarily, there would be a set number of days in a year, and on that last day it was a cause for celebration. People could easily celebrate without the enforced, capitalized tongue touching anyway, right? 

 

Apparently, that’s not the case – evidenced by the nervous fiddling with the button on the cuff of his stuffy suit (“It’s Armani, stop your fretting,” Kanaya has hissed at him at least a dozen times in the past half hour alone.), and the flutes of champagne he keeps grabbing when a waiter flutters past him as an excuse to get out of the mundanities of small talk. And maybe, also, to keep his jitters under control. 

 

Years of cementing the art of method acting and he’s still not braced to just kiss someone. 

 

But, well. This isn’t just _someone._

 

—

 

The minute Christmas is over, Terezi gets the call from her agent. 

 

“Cohost? Why do I need someone to help me host a party?” She scoffs indignantly, flopping over onto her belly, chin propped in her hand.

 

“Um, because it’s way more exciting when two Hollywood starlets get together and make the little people feel important? Get with the times Pyrope,” Is Vriska’s snappy response, and Terezi can near hear the eye roll punctuating the rhetoric of the statement. 

 

“I’m plenty charming on my own,” She weakly responds between a mouthful of leftover Christmas pudding. “Who knows! Maybe, we just won’t vibe, and the festive cheer will be spread awfully thin and all that’ll get me is bad press, and you a bad paycheck,” 

 

“We both know your career could get chucked down the garbage chute and you’d still compensate me to the best of your ability,” Terezi deliberates this sentence in seething silence. “You’re too soft. And anyway, I’m _guaranteed_ that you two will vibe,”

 

She frowns, spoons around the remnants of pudding and tries to quell the rising suspicion that comes with the sinister way Vriska curls her tongue around that word. It never means anything good, in her experience.

 

“…You’re not going to tell me who I’m working with, are you?” 

 

“Nope! Consider it a belated Christmas gift, and New Year’s is your reception date. Stylists will be ‘round at 8 in the morning for fittings, goodnight my little money maker!” 

 

—

 

Karkat prides himself, perhaps a little too much on being some self proclaimed master at romantic tropes. He’s studied the book back to front like a goddamn bible, has every scenario planned out in his head, and commits to his roles like a devout Catholic to communion. 

 

What that means is typically, getting in character isn’t a problem. He’s the perfect Tom Hanks to his leading female’s Meg Ryan, the Ryan Gosling to their Rachel McAdams, the Humphrey Bogart to their Ingrid Bergman’s. And sure, maybe, he’s typecast as the grouchy, cynical, wisecracking asshole whose world gets turned around by _love_ , in a way that hits close enough to home for it to feel just marginally like cheating, but the point is? He’s damn good at his job.

 

The articles appraising the rise of his growing success agree, and so do the nominations and few awards he’s managed to cinch over the years. A spiteful laugh in the face of all those that doubted him when he was but a starving college student.

 

Which is why the minute one of those he’s mapped the mental dartboard against waltzes in, script in hand, he spills his coffee all over himself, nearly trips into the best boy and looks like the same dorky teenager being humiliated at a frat party. 

 

At least she doesn’t look as smug as he remembers. 

 

“Wh— You—! Who—“ He stumbles.

 

“Karkat?” She spits, annoyingly more coherent.

 

“Oh, you two know each other!” The director says, coming around, clapping both of them ‘round the shoulder, giving a glance down at Karkat’s still sopping wet and burning hot pant leg. “That’ll make the chemistry even more believable, huh?”

 

“John,” Karkat grits out. “A word?”

 

“Sure bud! What’s up? You know, besides your pants,” He responds cheerfully, feet planted to their spot. Karkat barely resists the urge to smack his glasses off his face.

 

Terezi’s still staring at him rather bug eyed, and Karkat doesn’t linger too long on how she looks even better in real life than on the front of a glossy magazine spread before he’s yanking John away.

“What is _she_ doing here?” He inquires under his breath, childishly folding his arms and sending an accusatory glance in the direction of the Eurasian whose looking at him — or squinting? he could never quite know how to term it — now like he’s sprouted an extra pair of limbs. 

 

“Um,” John responds, scratching at his head in confusion. “She’s the female lead? She’s kind of meant to be here. Y’know, to film the movie, and all her scenes with you. Which… is a huge chunk of the film? Standard procedure,”

 

“Don’t be a smartass you _know_ what I mean!” Karkat hisses, redirecting his gaze to John in time to watch his look of confusion melt into a disbelieving snort. 

 

“Jeez, you guys still have beef? That was… ages ago! Like, six years!” The vague arm gestures, he guesses, are meant to accentuate his point. “Look— Terezi’s perfect for the part. Not just because she’s the latest figurehead for representation in nearly every category, but because she’s _born_ for the role. Femme fatale that can actually hold her own? Discovers love without becoming reliant on it? Badass female character who can sway the jury with her brains? Should I go on?”  
  
He purses his lips and lets loose a long, rather exaggerated sigh. Karkat knows he’s got a point; Despite their past, she’s ridiculously good at the parts he’s (reluctantly) seen her in. And a disabled, female, woman of color who isn’t afraid to speak out for the lesser man… she’s probably going to rake in more of an audience than Karkat will. It makes him bitter, angry, and resentful all at once, but some small part of him, can’t help but feel that fraction of awe he always held for her.

 

“Whatever,” He finally resigns, hanging his head. “Let’s just— let’s just do the fucking read,”

 

“Great!” There’s that toothy smile, and for a second, he feels kind of stupid for having even started a fuss over the matter. Up until—

 

“Oh and uh, dude? Could you put on some dry pants or something? We just got these new seats, getting them damp would blow,”

 

—

 

She can hardly see how her hair looks, or the detailing on her dress, her makeup artist having insisted on her leaving her contacts out until after her face was done up, but there’s a stupid unease rising in her belly that makes her fidget every couple of seconds. 

 

Nepeta bats at her shoulder and redirects her chin upwards, face pulling into what Terezi thinks, is possibly a frown. “Hey! I gotta get this wing down, this is the second time you’ve smudged it ‘Rezi. What’s wrong?”

 

“Sorry,” She mutters stubbornly, exhaling a breath. “It’s just… I don’t know, I feel kind of dumb being dolled up just to kiss someone just so the piranharazi gets fed and Hollywood can fan the flames on whatever stupid romance they think is brewing between us?”

 

“Like you’re whoring yourself out?” Nepeta mumbles around the brush stuck in between her mouth as she alternates between shades. 

 

“I guess,” She shrugs, trying to consciously resist furrowing her brows together. “You’d think they’d be satisfied that I’m even letting him share the spotlight,”

 

“You sure that’s the issue here?” The dabbing at her eyes stops and she blinks them open to vaguely make out Nepeta leaning back.The lack of 20/20 vision is suddenly all the more appreciated.

 

“What else would be the issue?” She already knows the answer, it niggles her at the back of her mind, has been since she first found out the plan. 

 

“Maybe… it’s not what you’re doing, but who you’re doing it with,” Nepeta says slowly, tapping the powder brush in her hand against the edge of a container. “You’ve had no problem pulling PR stunts in the past, some might say it’s part of your… _purrfession,”_

 

“No cat puns today please, the mighty dragon is feeling far too under the weather to entertain them,” She groans, flickering her useless gaze to the other side of the room. 

 

She hears a chuckle, before Nepeta’s featherlight touch comes to tilt her chin up, lightly dusting across her cheeks. “My point is, this isn’t a first for you. What’s new though is how badly you’re taking it, which might be due to _other_ circumstances,”

 

“Other circumstances,” She emptily repeats, focusing on the sensation of the brush.

 

“You know. Like, the fact that your charming… handsome… elusive…”

 

“Nepeta,”

 

“Right- your costar? Maybe he means more to you than you tell yourself. I mean, that’s always been the case with you two, right?”

 

She bites her lip, and ignores the hammering that starts up in her chest. _This isn’t college,_ she tells herself. _Get a damn grip._

 

“Nepeta- we were hardly what I’d even call friends, and then we lost contact, and showed up in the same industry. That’s hardly what I’d even consider worth commenting on,”

 

“Mmmhmm,” She says, brushing away the loose powder. “Well! I’m done, you can pop your contacts in and tell that to your beautiful, gorgeous self! Have fun tonight ‘Rez,” She says, pushing the box into her hands before heading out the door.

 

—

 

“Ugh, cut!” Dave’s voice rings out, halting both of them in the scene. John’s sitting there looking disheveled, and Dave… well, still just looks like a regular impassive douchebag, just with a tighter set to his lips than usual.

 

“Seriously? What the fuck is it now?” He grunts, pushing a hand through his artfully messed up hair. He can hear the stylist in the corner drawing a breath. He can also hear Terezi’s impatient sigh, and for once can empathize with her. 

 

(For once? Who’s he even fooling at this point?)

 

“Um, I dunno man. Maybe it’s the fact that both of you pale in comparison to what your cardboard cut outs could do, since that’s how stiff you’re showing up on camera,” He retorts, leaning his weight to his right leg in a true show of nonchalance. “C’mon TZ, I know you can bring better than this. That goon, well, he’s a goon, but c’mon, work that Pyrope magic for me and make this happen so we can all just hit the caffeine and call it a day,”

 

Karkat flips him the bird and in return he gets it doubled up on him. 

 

“Listen, we’ll give you two your time, and _we’re_ gonna hit the caffeine ‘cus, holy shit, I’m fuckin’ exhausted, and when I get back please, and I’m asking nicely, just, get the take? Cool, seeya losers in ten,”

 

As the crew files out towards the refreshment table his shoulders slouch out the tension that had wound itself into his neck, at some point over the last couple of hours.

 

“Hey,” Terezi says from beside him, soft in a way that pulls at a forgotten part of his heart. Ew. No. Corny. Too corny. “Dave’s right, let’s just… stop being assholes about this, and get to it,” 

 

“Maybe Strider’s the one that should stop roughhousing us with his egomaniacal need to control every fucking shot and accept that actors aren’t malleable clay figures that he can manipulate to his own liking,” He fires back, avoiding her gaze entirely.

 

There’s a couple beats of silence before he’s forced to meet it, and it’s about as flat and indignant as he would expect.

 

“Fine,” He groans. “Fine- just- fucking- fine! Okay! Let’s just! Ugh!”

 

“Was that an agreement or just one of your little hissy fits? It’s kind of hard to tell the difference,” She snickers, shit eating grin tugging at the edge of her lips. 

 

“Shut up, I’m not going to say it again,” 

 

“Thank God for that, didn’t enjoy it the first time anyway,” She’s got her pearly whites on full display now, and briefly he recalls what she looked like with her stupid rainbow colored braces on. 

 

“You’re a dick,” He mumbles, unaware of John carefully watching them from the corner. “Truly, a Class A shithead, with honors.” 

 

“Aww, you really know how to make a girl swoon, huh Vantas?” She says, bubbles of laughter coming up as she inches closer, punching him lightly in the shoulder. She’s close enough now that he can see the scarring around her eyes, even if they’re covered by concealer and foundation and the like. Close enough that he can hear the short breaths she takes, and the way her lashes flutter against her skin. 

 

Close enough that he can quietly say, “Never with you, pretty sure you’d make it known how itwas the other way around,”

 

“Well,” She mumbles, licking at her lips. “Can’t argue with that one,”

 

Dave’s at the camera now, and if Terezi’s paying attention to that fact, he certainly isn’t aware. His attention, is on the gap she’s closing between them, and how pliant her lips feel when they meet him halfway. Distantly, he knows that this is that Pyrope magic, he knows he’s being played and he shouldn’t feel scammed because it’s part of the job. But up close? Up close he just focuses on the faint cherry chapstick she has on, how her hand curls at the nape of his neck, and how right and wrong it feels all at once.

 

—

 

“I’m moving to Massachusetts,” She says to him the next morning, just when he’s blinking himself awake around her. His room’s a wreck, their clothes are scattered about and she wonders if Sollux ever came home last night. 

 

It probably doesn’t matter.

 

“Um… good morning to you too?” He says, sleep still thick in his voice, arm shifting around her waist in a way that makes her want to never leave the refuge of his tiny dorm room. “If this is your idea of a practical joke Pyrope, you’re pretty fucking terrible at it,”

 

She laughs emptily. 

 

“I.. It’s not a joke,” She finally says, _whispers_ more like. “I— I got in. To Harvard. I didn’t think I would so- so I never brought it up with you but I did and it’s such a _massive_ opportunity that I—“

 

“Wait,” He says, slowly pushing himself up onto his forearms. “Wait, wait, wait. You applied to Harvard and didn’t think to tell me?” 

 

She swallows thickly and rolls onto her back, squeezing her eyes back shut. It doesn’t make a difference, she still just sees the fuzzy blackness, just this time without the sensation of Karkat’s warmth enveloping her. “Like I said I didn’t think I’d get in—“

 

“Bullshit Terezi!” He snaps. “You— what the _fuck_? Who would just… send in a transfer application without at least a semblance of _hope_ of getting in? You really think I’m such a nobhead that I’d buy that piece of crap excuse? Yeah, frankly, I’m having a hard time seeing why _Harvard fucking Law_ would accept you either,”

 

“Please,” She mumbles, palming at her face. “I’m sorry really, you _know_ how much I wanted to go to law school, and it’s not like this is the end of the world for us,”

 

“It’s states away,” He says quieter this time. “It’s skype calls, and hours and.. _lessons_ away. It’s a different world, it’s fucking.. ivy league, it’s a class above me, it’s— it’s everything I could never accomplish and you know it!”

 

She blinks at that, finds herself frowning and pushes herself up to face him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“What it _means_ ,” He’s downright venomous at this point, throwing the blanket off of himself, the sound of clothing being haphazardly thrown on. “Is that this? Us? It was just some goddamn experiment to you, classic suburban uptown sweetheart dabbles in broken lower class garbage before hauling herself off to the comfort of her money,”

 

He’s pacing and his voice barely holds, she knows, reasonably, that he’s just saying this because of his anger but it hurts and she’s not one to hold her temper that well either. 

 

“I knew it! I knew it was too good to be true, I knew the whole time you were just toying with me and jerking my chain along because that’s so damn you, Terezi!”

 

“That’s not—“ She begins, face screwing up in anger. “How… how _dare_ you,” She seethes, before joining in on getting her clothes on in as little time as possible, rising as much as she can in her petite stature to meet him head on. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d react like this! You’d take it as some personal attack on you instead of I don’t know, being happy for me, and blow it way out of proportion and use it to fuel your insistent self pity trip!”

 

“You know what Terezi?” He breathes, and when she slides her glasses on, sees the way his fists clench. “Fuck you. Get the _fuck_ out of my room,”

 

“Fine,” She spits back, gathering the reminder of her stuff, pushing past him. “Fuck you too!”

 

“Fine!” 

 

“Fine!”

 

She slams the door on her way out, narrowly missing Sollux who’s warily backing back out of the corridor as she barrels down the stairs, wiping hot angry tears from her face.

 

—

 

He’s on the corridor maybe a full five minutes before the door clicks open. He half expects it to be Eridan, who’s been fretting over his infrequent disappearances all night but when he turns he promptly forgets his entire train of thought.

 

“Why do I feel like this is the ending to a really trashy romantic comedy of yours,” She finally says, breaking the silence awkwardly with a laugh and a fidget.

 

“Seeing as you were in the most recent one, don’t think you’ve got much room to talk there,” He finds himself saying, even if he’s still totally floored. Her hair’s loose around her shoulders, but styled in a way that frames her face and her dress is anything but over the top; it’s simple and a shade of teal that complements her eyes, paired with a tasteful pair of red heels.

 

But that would be the observations Kanaya would make, commenting on how elegantly she’s been done up. Karkat’s focusing more on how familiar yet different she looks, and finding it increasingly difficult to look away.

 

“Hey,” She says, jabbing a finger at him with a small smile. “It wasn’t a romantic comedy, so I have plenty of room to talk. An entire mansion’s worth of space,”

 

“Yet, here you are, seeking refuge on a narrow, hidaway balcony,” He cocks a brow pointedly. “So, what’s with that?”

 

She sighs and moves over until she’s beside him, arms draped over the edge of the balcony. “I’m getting away from being told how to be myself for a minute. You?”

 

He shrugs. “Looks like we’re in the same boat for once,”

 

She casts him a look and he holds it, wondering how on Earth this feels like the the tensest moment all night, despite all the build up put on them for the big moment which still has yet to happen. 

 

“I can’t believe they’re making us _kiss,”_ She groans finally, a short laugh escaping her. “Can’t they just loop the scene from the film?”

 

“It’s about upkeeping a sacred tradition, intrinsic to the culture Terezi, didn’t they teach you _anything_ about basic respect in Ivy League?” He sniggers, right before he realizes what he’s said. Hopefully it’s dark enough and she’s blind enough that she can’t catch his paling, but in his experience Terezi could nitpick him apart with her eyes closed.

 

“…You’re still hung up on that?” She asks quietly. He risks a glance her way and notices that she’s clenching his jaw. Great. Good one Karkat, just take a big fat heaping shit on whatever progress you’ve made in repairing your relationship. _Stellar._

 

“I— no!” No? “…Yes. No. Maybe?” He turns away, folding his arms. “I don’t know- it- I thought I was over it, and I thought I could just get by hating you forever, or something,”

 

“Geez, thank you,” 

 

“But,” He holds up his hand to silence her. “Apparently I never hated you to begin with, which is equally infuriating because holy shit I have no idea what I felt for you,” 

 

He sighs and reaches up to loosen his tie, ignoring whatever Kanaya might have to say about that. “I mean here I was thinking you were going to be some bigshot lawyer or something and next thing I know, I’m hearing about some half Chinese, visually impaired actress who’s in all the latest indie hits, and your face is all over the fucking internet. It’s like.. it was a giant punch in the fucking gut because you left acting school to pursue what I thought was your lifelong ambition, only to come back to acting and all the while I just felt like the only jackass that wasn’t being let in on a joke the whole world knew about,”

 

“And then there you are on set, with _me_ and- and then you’re kissing me as if all that time meant _nothing_ but of _course_ it was just so we could get the shot and I feel like a fucking idiot because no matter _what_ I tell myself I’m always getting suckered in by you and your wily, fucking games,”

 

He’s barely making sense to himself, and he doubts he’s getting through to Terezi with how quiet she’s been, but some part of him finds it in himself to continue. 

 

“So yeah, I’m still hung up on that because I still don’t know whether or not I was an experimental phase in your life, and I’m still hung up on how apparently I still- fuck- I still would let myself get toyed around by you, and- and this stupid publicity stunt is just going to be the nail in the coffin on my dignity because I’ll just take it too seriously, like I did with everything involving you,”

 

He must’ve been rambling because he finds himself short of breath when he’s done, huffing, before looking over at her. To his credit, it looks like he’s actually taken her by surprise.

 

“Hold on,” She murmurs, shaking her head like she’s clearing her thoughts. “You think I was just trying to get the scene when I kissed you?”

 

“Um,” He says like it’s the stupidest question he’s been asked. “Duh?”

 

“Karkat,” She murmurs, before slowly winding into a chuckle, which builds into a cacophony of laughter.

 

“Wow, okay, this is not helping to disprove my analogy on this being a massive fucking joke,”

 

“You are such,” She breathes, catching her breath to wipe at the tears under her eyes. “A fucking idiot!”

 

He stares at her. “Uh… excuse me?” 

 

“You…” She murmurs, still grinning, before it melts into an angry glare. “You… you.. ugh!” 

 

“What just happ—“ He barely gets a word in before she’s pummeling at his chest and he’s barely deflecting her blows. 

 

“Yes, I was trying to get you to unwind but I was.. I was making it real! Because I missed you, and there you were making your stupid insults at me, and you were being so _you_ that I felt like even more of an idiot for leaving!” His phone buzzes in his pocket — Eridan probably, but he ignores it.

 

“You never contacted me,” He breathes, throat dry.

 

“Because I was scared! Because there was so much that was broken between us that I didn’t want to chance ruining it even more!” Her hands stop throwing themselves at him, to which he’s grateful since it’s beginning to ache, except now they’re resting against his chest, bringing out a different sort of ache. 

 

( _Ew. Corny, so corny, a fucking cornball of a thought.)_

 

“Honestly Karkat?” She finally says, staring straight ahead at his undone tie. “I think I was getting _myself_ to unwind because I can’t say I didn’t want to kiss you then, and I can’t say I didn’t regret the way things ended between us,”

 

She lingers a moment longer, before hesitantly looking up to meet the deer in headlights look he’s giving her. Somewhere, distantly, he can hear people cheering, and someone at the microphone making a shitty excuse for their absence.

 

“But I swear if we had to go up there and fake it again? Yeah, I think I’d regret that more,”

 

“What does that mean?” He finally dares to ask. She teethes at her lower lip, which he now notices hasn’t been done over in lipstick, and faintly, is reminded of how she looked bent over a splay of textbooks, the same look on her face then. 

 

_Five! Four! Three!_

 

“It means if I’m going to kiss you,” 

 

_Two!_

 

“It’s going to be for real this time,”

 

He’s already halfway there when she leans up to kiss him. Fireworks go off behind him, and really, he wonders if they really are in some scripted romantic comedy, Truman Show style, but that’s a minor thought.

 

Mostly, he focuses on wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her towards him, on the fact that six years, however many repressed emotions and memories later, and he’s right back to where he started.

 

“Happy new year,” He breathes when they pull apart finally, her nose brushing against his. It’s 2018, and it’s the first time in a long time that he feels himself grinning from unadulterated happiness and comfort.

 

—

 

“Happy new year to you too,” Vriska says over brunch, tossing her the paper. 

 

Her hair’s done up in a sloppy bun and she’s got sunglasses on to hide the bags under her eyes, unconcealed by makeup for the first time in a while, but she’s humming away as she spreads jam across her toast.

 

On the front page is a blurry shot of her and Karkat kissing on the balcony from the night before. The headline reads, “Hollywood’s Hottest Couple Rings in the New Year With Secret Moonlit Rendezvous!” 

 

“Looks like a convoluted title,” She shrugs, taking a huge chunk out of her food. 

 

Vriska gives her a mirthless chuckle. “Looks like a massive shit in my cereal,”

 

“Hey,” She says leaning back with a grin, licking away the remnants of cherry jam on her lips. “You still got your kiss in the end, didn’t you?”


End file.
